


The Six Doctors...in Bed

by Kantayra



Series: The Masters and Doctors in the Matrix [23]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (TV Movie 1996)
Genre: Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Moresomes, Multi, PWP, The Master is a player, The Master's 50th Anniversary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:41:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28503162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kantayra/pseuds/Kantayra
Summary: HAPPY 50TH ANNIVERSARY TO THE MASTER!When the Master's feeling down, one thing is sure to restore his usual boundless energy for nefarious schemes: the Doctor in his bed. All six of them. At once.
Relationships: Eighth Doctor/The Master (Delgado), Fifth Doctor/The Master (Delgado), Fourth Doctor/The Master (Delgado), Seventh Doctor/The Master (Delgado), Sixth Doctor/The Master (Delgado), The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who), Third Doctor/The Master (Delgado)
Series: The Masters and Doctors in the Matrix [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1592659
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	The Six Doctors...in Bed

**Author's Note:**

> 50 years ago today, Roger Delgado made his first appearance as the Master. ♥ The original and still the sexiest villain of them all!
> 
> In honour of this momentous occasion, I've given Delgado!Master the only thing I could think of that he might want but doesn't already have: six Doctors all naked in his bed simultaneously. Do you think he'll like it? :P

“Perhaps, for once, we should just spend a quiet night in,” the Third Doctor suggested. “Rest up a bit.”

“Nonsense,” the Thirteenth Master scoffed. He adjusted the collar of his Nehru suit, then fussed over the sleeves, studying his reflection intently in the hall mirror of their mindscape suite. His usual delusional filters were clearly firmly in place because he didn’t even seem to notice that his face was paler than usual and the circles under his eyes darker. “I’m perfectly capable of matching you – any of you, _all_ of you – even on my worst days.”

“If you insist,” the Third Doctor said lightly, but his lips were pursed with disapproval. He was quite confident that the Master had overexerted himself on that delightful little romp where they’d finally bested Rassilon once and for all. However, the Thirteenth Master was a stubborn, cantankerous old goat, and if the Doctor tried to press the point, the Master would just dig his heels in harder and likely drive himself to collapse from sheer exhaustion. “Are you ready, my dear?” he asked instead, offering his arm gallantly.

The Master slipped his arm into the Doctor’s. The Doctor was fairly sure that it wasn’t just his imagination that the Master leaned upon him more heavily than usual. “Lead on,” the Master said with a sharp smile.

The Doctor had little choice but to smile back and do so. After all, it wasn’t like anything he’d ever done had slowed down or discouraged the Master’s thick-headed ego in the slightest. The old fool did insist on defeating himself from within before he’d even consider allowing the Doctor to help.

That was fine. The Doctor was more than willing to indulge him.

***

The lights flickered and then dimmed theatrically, and a mad cackle echoed throughout the bedroom. The Eighth Doctor sat bolt upright in bed with a start. When the lights came back on, the Thirteenth Master was sitting at the end of his bed – in Tremas’ body, uncharacteristically – with a chessboard laid out before him.

“Oh,” the Eighth Doctor said with some surprise, “hello there.”

“I challenge you, Doctor,” the Master menaced with a hint of feline fang and a flash of gold in his eyes, “to a battle of wits…to the death!” He cackled again for good measure.

The Eighth Doctor blinked. This certainly wasn’t one of their usual games. In fact, if he didn’t know better, he might have said that the Master was getting his Doctors and their respective kinks ever so slightly muddled.

“Are you feeling entirely well?” the Eighth Doctor asked carefully. “You seem a bit forgetful of late…”

The Master’s smile flickered into a frown for one moment, as if he’d belatedly realised his embarrassing mistake. “You’re one to talk about forgetfulness!” he snapped instinctively.

“Well, you’ve certainly got me there,” the Eighth Doctor agreed with a shrug.

An awkward silence settled between them wherein the Master absolutely refused to acknowledge that he might’ve got something ever-so-slightly wrong.

“So, um, how does this work again?” the Eighth Doctor offered almost apologetically. “Strip chess, is it?”

“Yes, absolutely,” the Master said, as if that had been his plan all along.

“Excellent!” The Eighth Doctor beamed and moved his pawn, already plotting carefully how to lose all his clothes as quickly as possible.

***

“Hello, hello, hello!” said the quirky stooped man with the ridiculously curled fake moustache. “My name is Mestar E. Ville, and you must be the Doctor.”

The Seventh Doctor blinked in disbelief. “Um…” he began. He didn’t like to say anything about such a transparent disguise, but honestly!

“If you will step this way into the Hall of Paddling,” the Master said, twirling his comical moustache and gesturing to the next room, “and lean _very_ far over the table, I think you will find the answers to the mystery you’ve been investigating.”

The Seventh Doctor’s eyes darted one way and then the other. He leaned in close to the Master and whispered, “What, are we being watched or something?”

The Master’s fake moustache twitched with displeasure. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he insisted.

“I didn’t get the wrong time and place, did I?” The Seventh Doctor frowned. “Might you not have switched my invitation for my Fifth’s, by mistake?”

“I don’t make mistakes!” the Master insisted.

“Oh no,” the Seventh Doctor apologised. “Of course not.” He paused and scratched his head. “Just to clarify: I am supposed to not recognise Mr. Master Evil—”

“ _Mestar E. Ville_ ,” the Master corrected.

“Right. Him. And then I’m supposed to walk into that obvious trap over there and get spanked?”

“If you’d be so kind.”

The Seventh Doctor shrugged. “When in Rome!” he agreed, and walked in with a bit of a skip to his step. He figured that, after all the pressure the Master had been under of late, he deserved a break.

Plus, well, Hall of _Paddling_.

***

The Sixth Doctor frowned. When he’d left his room earlier that afternoon, he’d been quite sure that that jelly baby had not been lying on his floor. Had his Fourth been mussing about in his things again? Honestly, that frivolous Doctor had no sense of boundaries whatsoever!

Cautiously, the Sixth Doctor picked up the jelly baby, sniffed it, and when nothing seemed amiss, checked that no one was looking. No one was. In a clear violation of the ten-second rule, he popped the jelly baby into his mouth anyway.

Lovely.

However, it was then that he noticed that a foot further on, there was another jelly baby, and then a third. It seemed to be a trail of breadcrumbs, as it were. How very odd…

The Sixth Doctor followed the trail with a sinking suspicion at what he’d find at the other end. Indeed, there in the other room was a large metal cage with a very large bed in it. The jelly babies led right up onto the mattress.

The Sixth Doctor paused just to double-check that he hadn’t walked into the Fourth Doctor’s room by mistake, but no: there was his rainbow umbrella in the corner and his collection of cat pins by the vanity mirror.

“Oh well,” he conceded gamely, “it’s certainly better than carrot juice.” He stepped firmly and deliberately into the trap.

Immediately, he was assailed from behind by a blindfold and pushed forwards onto the luxuriant bed.

“I have you now, Doctor!” the Master purred in his ear. “Just the way I’ve always wanted you!”

“Oh,” the Sixth Doctor agreed, chewing on his most recently acquired jelly baby, “absolutely. Well done, you. Only…” He hesitated.

“What?” the Master demanded irately.

“You haven’t been feeling a bit tired lately or anything, have you?” the Sixth Doctor asked as delicately as he could.

“No!” the Master insisted, and proceeded to fuck the Doctor thoroughly enough that complaining at that point really would have been unforgivably rude.

***

The Fifth Doctor had been seated in the middle of his floor, squinting at the circuitry before him with a soldering gun in one hand, when suddenly out of nowhere came the cry of:

“GOO-SNAKE!”

Indeed, a goo-snake proceeded to drop itself from the ceiling straight down into his lap.

The Fifth Doctor flailed and sputtered and fell over backwards, dropping the soldering iron entirely as he went. “Wh-What are you doing?!” he asked in alarm, face flaming bright red, when he looked down to see the goo-snake Master curled up in his lap right around the bulge in his trousers. “Ah!” he cried out, and his head flew back as the goo-snake Master gave him a tentative squeeze.

“Open wide for me, Doctor,” the goo-snake Master hissed enticingly.

“Are-Are you sure you’ve got this quite right?” the Fifth Doctor babbled nervously. “I don’t mean to criticise, but you might have mis-fetished a time or two recently, and I really think my Eighth—”

“Don’t you _want_ goo-snake?” the goo-snake Master pouted, somehow, even though he was a sort of gelatinous snake-shaped translucent thing with no humanoid facial features.

“Oh no, I didn’t say that, per se,” the Fifth Doctor stumbled. “Just that…”

“Open. Wide,” the goo-snake Master ordered.

The Fifth Doctor gulped. And opened. So much for his goo-snake virginity!

***

“Quite the quintessential quagmire you’ve quipped into now, my quaint quarry,” a voice whispered in the Fourth Doctor’s ear. Well, it was probably supposed to be his ear. With their respective heights being what they were, it was really more like the Fourth Doctor’s shoulder, but he didn’t like to quibble. “Quivering so quickly?” the husky voice muffled into his scapula.

“Wasn’t Q-day yesterday?” the Fourth Doctor asked quizzically.

Behind him, the Master pulled back from the Doctor’s shoulder. “Was it?” he asked worriedly.

The Fourth Doctor turned to face him. The Master had gone quite pale indeed, and there was a sweat breaking out on his brow. As the Fourth Doctor watched, the Master flickered between Tremas’ form and his original body, as if he were losing control of his shape.

The Fourth Doctor frowned and lunged forwards to catch the Master just as he fell. “Are you all right?” he asked anxiously, feeling the Master’s forehead for a temperature more because he’d spent far too much time on Earth than because that indicated anything for Time Lords.

“I do seem to be feeling just a little bit unsteady,” the Master said, and he’d switched entirely over to his original body now, apparently unable to take on his other guises. And then he slumped against the Fourth Doctor’s chest. Or midsection, as the case might be.

“Master?” the Fourth Doctor asked. And then more worriedly, “Master!” He tried shaking the Master’s shoulder, but the Master was out cold.

The Fourth Doctor looked around worriedly. They were out in the atrium, but no one else seemed to be about. He let out a sigh that might have been concerned or frustrated and then leaned down to sweep the Master up into his arms.

The Master might have been short in stature, but he was a solid weight in the Fourth Doctor’s comparatively scrawny arms. He had a reassuring heft. The Fourth Doctor possibly felt a quiver somewhere at having this particular Master so trusting and vulnerable and at his mercy. That was counterbalanced by his growing apprehension at the Master’s collapse. It just wasn’t like the Master to show any weakness publically. He hurried them over to the Thirteenth Master’s room, which more often than not nowadays, with their mindscape’s new topology, was also the Third Doctor’s room.

Indeed, the Third Doctor was inside, the top half of his torso hidden under Bessie’s bonnet, when the Fourth Doctor rushed in with the Master. The Third Doctor stood back up from out of his roadster and looked set to go off on a tirade at his selves not knocking before interrupting him, when he saw the Master lying limp in the Fourth Doctor’s arms.

“Good god, man, what happened?” The Third Doctor’s face paled, and he rushed over to take the Master from the Fourth Doctor’s arms.

The Fourth Doctor found himself strangely reluctant to let go. They vied for a moment, and then together carried the Master back to the bedroom before they both, grudgingly, finally released him onto the bed. Still, the Master didn’t stir.

The Third Doctor promptly began fussing over the Master, feeling his forehead unnecessarily – again, ha! They had indeed all spent too much time on Earth – and caressing his brow and chest. The Fourth Doctor retreated to the corner of the bedroom and watched the tenderness in his previous incarnation’s hands. He felt like something of an intruder, but at the same time he found himself loath to leave.

“He just…collapsed,” the Fourth Doctor said unhelpfully.

The Third Doctor grunted. “He’s been working himself too hard, of late.”

“He works himself too hard, generally,” the Fourth Doctor pointed out. “He does have a rather – ahem – _busy_ social life, after all.”

The Third Doctor nodded and adjusted the Master’s limbs into a slightly more comfortable position. The Master stirred slightly and nuzzled into his hands. “He takes exceptionally good care of us all, too,” he sighed fondly. “You know, I think he’ll be all right. Just a bit of overexertion.”

The Fourth Doctor continued to hover in the background.

“Yes, that means you can go run off now,” the Third Doctor snapped with some annoyance.

“Well…” the Fourth Doctor said, caught between warring instincts. “Normally I would, you see. But it has been pointed out to me that my continued flightiness hasn’t been entirely beneficial to our long-term relationship.”

The Third Doctor snorted with amusement. “Even you?” he asked, turning to look at his successor with a surprised raised eyebrow. “My, we are all quite far-gone for him, aren’t we?”

The Fourth Doctor spread his hands magnanimously. “We Doctors may not have been the most reliable over the eons, but equally the Master is exceptionally poor at letting us take care of him.”

“Hmm,” the Third Doctor agreed. “We’ll have to do something about that, won’t we?”

The Fourth Doctor beamed at him conspiratorially.

“Oh no,” the Third Doctor said, “you’ve just had the same idea I’ve had, haven’t you?”

“It does seem inevitable,” the Fourth Doctor agreed.

***

The Master awoke in a dreamy sort of haze, to find that he was naked lying upon his back in his bed. Every single one of his senses was saturated with Doctor, in way that would’ve been really quite enjoyable if only he’d had the energy to get up and do something about it.

“Oh, hush,” the Third Doctor’s voice scolded him, when he instinctively tried to get up.

A hand pressed down on his chest. And then a second, and a third, and…

How many Doctors were flooding his senses again?

He opened his eyes, only to be immediately assaulted by a pair of rough lips such that he could only see a tangle of blurred chaotic curls through the kiss. He shut his eyes again. No harm in enjoying an eager and willing Doctor’s mouth, after all.

Or two, it seemed.

The second mouth was considerably softer and was laving all over one of his nipples with an enthusiasm that was both sloppy and attentive. The Master moaned into the one Doctor’s mouth – yes, it was definitely the Fourth; he knew the taste of that smirk – and pulled back to confirm that it was, indeed, the Eighth Doctor tongue-bathing his chest.

“Ah,” he said. His head swam slightly as he tried to remember where he was and how he’d got here. Eventually, he recalled his little misadventure with the Fourth Doctor from earlier. Evidently, in the interval, the Fourth Doctor had stripped down to nothing but his scarf, as was his custom, and for some unfathomable reason summoned his Eighth (who was entirely naked, but that was a common enough occurrence that the Master didn’t remark upon it anymore). “My deepest apologies, my dear. That was an unforgiveable lapse, and I can assure you it will not happen a—”

“Hush!” the Third Doctor repeated, more sternly this time.

The Master glanced over to where the Third Doctor was seated beside the bed, leaning forward with elbows upon knees, and his nose rested upon his steepled fingers. He was stripped down to his undershirt. Behind him was an entirely naked (but still be-hatted) Seventh Doctor, who seemed to be attempting to untangle a long coil of rope.

“I told you we’d need to tie him down,” the Seventh Doctor said, and then let out a little exclamation of delight when he got the knot out. “Here, catch!”

He tossed the rope to the other side of the bed, where the Fifth Doctor caught it deftly. The Fifth Doctor was down to nothing but his pants.

“Et tu?” the Master asked, somewhat flabbergasted at the sequence of events occurring around him, but perhaps especially the complicity of all the Doctors therein.

“It really is for the best, you know.” The Fifth Doctor smiled sweetly and bound one of the Master’s hands to the headboard.

“Now, now,” the Master reached up with his free hand to try to catch the Fifth Doctor, “if you’ll let me—”

A firm, unyielding hand closed around his free wrist, pulling it back up against the headboard as well. “We will let you do nothing,” the Sixth Doctor tsked at him. He was also down to nothing but his pants; however, in his particular case, his pants were so loud that it really didn’t make much of a difference. Yellow and blue polka dots with calico kitties, indeed! “That is the entire point of this venture, I believe you’ll find.” He held the Master’s hand still while the Seventh Doctor tied his wrist snuggly.

“What is the meaning of this?” the Master demanded. “I am the Master, and you will—”

“No,” the Third Doctor cut him off with a fingertip to his lips that bound him more tightly than any rope, “I’m afraid this one time, we won’t. For once, _we_ shall be the masters, and you will lie back, relax, and _enjoy_ yourself.”

The Master gulped. That sounded like a terrible idea, and a brilliant one. He was quite outraged, really he was. Any minute now, he was going to burst free of his bonds – trivial things, knots! – and bend every last one of his Doctors to his will, and then have them all sequentially across this very bed. Just as soon as he caught his second wind.

The Third Doctor leaned in and replaced his fingertip with his mouth. The Master let out a contented little sigh, and their lips moulded together in a perfect fit. It really was exceedingly difficult to hold his side of an argument when the Third Doctor kissed him like that, as if the Master were the most precious thing in the Doctor’s world.

“You tend to our needs and wants so very well,” the Third Doctor praised once he pulled away from their kiss.

The Eighth mumbled something that might have been “Exceptionally well,” although it was quite difficult to tell when he refused to break his tongue away from the Master’s nipple.

“Curating each of our foibles with aplomb,” agreed the Seventh. His fingers were now trailing down the Master’s bound arm, stroking the little hairs to stand on tingling end.

“Quenching our quirks without question!” The Sixth Doctor had settled on the end of the bed and was absentmindedly caressing the Master’s ankle.

“Diabolically, fiendishly astute to each of our individual desires.” The Fifth Doctor’s hand was teasing the Master’s other wrist.

“In short,” the Fourth Doctor concluded, where he had flopped onto the bed on the opposite side to the Eighth, “superior as a lover in every way. _Masterful_ even, one might say. One _does_ say,” he corrected sheepishly.

“And so now,” the Third Doctor concluded, “for once, _we_ are going to tend to _your_ needs and wants.”

The Master gulped, yet still was able to demand archly, “Oh, and just what do you think those might be, my dears?”

“You need…” “…and want…” “…to be _worshipped_ …” “…and so you shall…” “…any objections..” “ _Master_?”

The Master, for once, could not think of a single counterargument.

And just as well, because at that moment his Doctors descended upon him in full force. And they were so very alluring when they were forceful…

The next kiss came from the Seventh Doctor. He came down at the Master at a right angle from where he was sitting beside the Master’s head at the headboard, so that their mouths slanted awkwardly and roughly across each other’s – but ever the sweeter for that mishmash!

The Eighth Doctor, unsurprisingly, continued to torment the Master’s one now-sodden nipple, but in counterpoint to him, the Fourth Doctor suddenly twisted the Master’s lower torso, so that the Master was now turned to the side onto one hip. The Fourth Doctor pressed up against the Master’s behind, but instead of their usual quick, sharp fucks, his finger instead gently teased at the Master’s entrance, soft and slick and wonderful. Was the Fourth Doctor actually _preparing_ him? Oh, how lovely! They never did this, they never…

What remained of the Master’s thought process deteriorated entirely at that point, because a wet engulfing heat suddenly descended upon his cock, from the other side. The Master couldn’t see who it was, but he’d become something of a connoisseur of Doctors’ mouths due to his intense dedication to the study of that very topic, such that he could now recognise them all entirely by blowjob. And also the Sixth Doctor had suddenly stopped talking, and sticking something large and thick into his mouth was generally the only way that could ever be achieved.

The Sixth Doctor sucked the tip of the Master’s cock shallowly at first, partially blocked by the awkward twist of the Master’s hips at where the Fourth Doctor had just prodded one finger into the Master’s now slick and relaxed entrance. However, then the Sixth Doctor let out a little huff – a delightful sensation around one’s cockhead, to be sure! – and lifted the Master’s upper knee so that he could sling it over his shoulder and thus settle his head firmly between the Master’s thighs.

The Fourth Doctor let out an exclamation of complaint at where the manoeuvre caused the Master to accidentally kick him amid the transit. However, once the Master was settled with his thigh around the Sixth Doctor’s neck, that suddenly opened him even further to the Fourth Doctor.

It all worked out quite well, after all. The Sixth Doctor swallowed the Master’s cock down right to the root, and the Fourth Doctor withdrew his tantalising finger only to replace it with his tongue, piercing deep and wet into the Master’s hole.

The Master groaned into the Seventh Doctor’s mouth in response. Apparently, the Seventh Doctor took that as a cue that the Master found himself still lacking for Doctors and pulled back long enough to reposition himself. He crawled over the Master’s body and settled himself carefully with one knee on the mattress on either side of the Master’s head. He was still wearing that stupid hat. He smiled down at the Master with a look of fond evilness and guided the tip of his cock to the Master’s lips.

Strangely enough, it turned out that the Master agreed that he needed quite a bit more Doctor to satisfy himself. He opened his mouth to take in the Seventh Doctor gratefully. He let himself taste, enjoy, savour… The Seventh Doctor’s cock was heavy on his tongue, solid, and the Master felt himself filled to completion as the Seventh Doctor rocked his hips carefully in and out of the Master’s mouth, supporting himself with his hands on the rocking headboard as he did so.

The Master squeezed his eyes shut tight to better lose himself in the sensations all around him: the Seventh Doctor’s cock in and out of his mouth, and then the Sixth Doctor’s mouth up and down his own cock, and the Fourth Doctor’s tongue in and out of his arse. The Eighth Doctor was still licking at his nipple every which way – who knew how he’d managed to maintain his spot between all the rest of him, but the Eighth Doctor had always been marvellously flexible in that way. None of them were in sync with each other even the tiniest bit, which should have made things immeasurably worse, but in turned out that when one was in love with a complete uncoordinated iconoclast like the Doctor, that actually just made everything _better_.

The Master’s hands clenched into fists, and his found his fingers interlaced tightly with the Fifth Doctor’s on the one hand, and on the other another Doctor’s hand had suddenly appeared. It could only be the Third Doctor at this point, and the Master couldn’t see him, but he could just imagine that look of smug, patrician condescension on the Third Doctor’s face as he watched the Master surrender himself wholly to them all.

Idiotic, really, that that image was what finally made the Master come.

The Sixth Doctor moaned orgiastically and swallowed the Master’s pleasure, and the Master felt the Fourth Doctor’s groan against his spread cheeks as if he’d just brought himself off to the feel of the Master’s orgasm. The Seventh Doctor most certainly came down the Master’s throat with a hoarse grunt, and the Master found his mouth flooded with the sweetness of the Doctor’s pleasure.

The Master was in a bit of a daze at that point, so the exact specifics of how all their bodies separated were rather lost in the shuffle. The Seventh Doctor moved off him and flopped to one side of the bed, such that the Master could feel the top of that stupid hat brushing against his hair. The Fourth and Sixth Doctors both pulled away, and the Master lazily opened his eyes to see them both wiping at their mouths like the cat who’d just got into the cream. The Master couldn’t help but laugh: there couldn’t be two Doctors more superficially different from each other, but moments like this gave away the fact that they were both the same infuriating Time Lord beneath it all.

He shivered slightly when they were gone, already feeling their absence. Apparently, the Third and Fifth Doctors took that are their cue to release this hands. At the same time, the Eighth Doctor finally stopped his tortuous licking, leaving the Master entirely bereft for one agonising moment.

Then they all settled back against him at once, warm and comforting again. The Third Doctor sidled up behind the Master, his chest broad and strong against the Master’s back, and the tip of his cock nudging the Master’s welcoming entrance where the Fourth Doctor had so obligingly stretched him out. At the same time, the Eighth Doctor squirmed his behind up against the Master’s front and reached back to slide the Master’s upper thigh up and around his waist, so the Master was now sandwiched – spooning and spooned – between the Eighth and Third Doctor’s bodies, nice and warm.

In contrast, the Fifth Doctor finally dropped his pants and took up the position the Seventh had just vacated, straddling the Master’s face but faced the wrong way around. The Fifth Doctor reached behind himself and arched his back as his hands spread his arse cheeks for the Master’s appraisal. And such a delightful offering the Fifth Doctor always was.

The Master was surprised to find one of his hands suddenly free, where the Seventh Doctor had apparently caught his second wind and loosed the Master’s bonds. The Master slipped his other hand free as well, because not even the Doctor’s knots could tie him own when he really wanted to escape. The Master cupped the Fifth Doctor’s perfect pale cheeks with his palms and guided him down so that he sat upon the Master’s face, and the Master could taste everything that was on offer. The Fifth Doctor’s hips strained to balance in the precarious position, but then he’d always been so good at holding himself in uncomfortable circumstances.

In the meantime, the Eighth Doctor had reached around to guide the Master’s cock into his body. The Master slid inside firmly and easily; the Eighth Doctor’s body was always so welcoming and eager for him. Behind the Master, the Third Doctor had also lined them up, but the other way around. He thrust his cock matter-of-factly into the Master’s arse, as if he naturally belonged there, and held them there like that for a long moment so that the Master could get a proper sense of just how deeply he’d been taken.

The Eighth Doctor had none of the Third’s control and was squirming and rocking his arse back into the Master with a series of frantic little gasps. Likewise, the Fifth had abandoned all decorum and was groaning with ever louder “ooh”s and “ah”s and “yes, Master!”s as he rode the Master’s face and the Master slipped his tongue, slick and filthy, inside the Fifth Doctor’s arse again and again.

As the Master fucked his way through this second set of Doctors, he felt his first batch come to life again. Fingers stroked through his hair from behind, and their positions dictated that that must be the Seventh Doctor. A hand slithered between his body and the Eighth’s to tweak at the one nipple of his that had been neglected so far – that was the Fourth Doctor, no doubt. And then far by the bottom of the bed, he felt another pair of hands caressing the arch of his foot, holding him in place in fact so that he couldn’t move properly, and the pace of the coupling was set entirely by the Eighth and Third Doctors instead. The Sixth Doctor pressed one kiss to his calf, perhaps in apology, and then nuzzled his way up and down the Master’s ankle.

The Master whimpered: it was too much and not enough, being loved from every angle like this, consumed by Doctors. The Fifth Doctor shivered when that whimper caused the Master’s tongue to vibrate inside him, and suddenly the Master was moaning and groaning just as loudly as the Fifth, letting himself go entirely, if only to make the Fifth Doctor go absolutely mad atop him.

And that was the point at which the Third Doctor finally _moved_.

He’d been holding himself back thus far, firm and solid within the Master, but merely present, resolute, waiting. Now he plunged in and out of the Master, rocking the Master’s world down to its very foundation, with each masterful stroke.

The Master cried out into the Fifth Doctor, and tried to reach his completion between the Third and the Eighth, but the Sixth and the Fourth and the Seventh held him in place more tightly than the ropes ever had.

“Just _receive_ your pleasure for once, won’t you?” the Third Doctor panted up against his ear, and the Master sagged back against him as the Third Doctor’s hips pistoned into him particularly brilliantly on the next thrust. “There. That’s a good chap.”

The Master came, slow and oversaturated. He could taste and feel and hear and smell and see Doctors every which way. He could even _sense_ the Doctors above and beneath all that, their minds ragged against his, and their timelines permanently intertangling with his own until they could never be separate again: past, present, or future. The Doctor swept over him in an incoming rush from every angle, and for once he was content not to struggle back but to merely succumb.

His orgasm was long, easy, and almost meditative. He felt himself drift off in a lazy haze of pleasure (and the Doctors, too, coming every which way around and inside him).

Finally, that one stubborn grain buried deep inside the Master cracked. He let himself relax into them. He let himself rest. He let him sleep, contented through and through.

Ah.

Bliss.

***

The Master awoke, feeling better than he had in ages. In fact, possibly better than he had in life!

He stretched with a luxurious yawn, and patted several Doctors affectionately upon the heads and bums as he did so. The feeling of deep-seated peace he felt upon seeing them all curled up upon the bed around him didn’t seem likely to abate anytime soon.

He watched as slowly they all stirred.

The Seventh Doctor smiled up at him almost shyly; he’d finally lost that stupid hat of his. “Feeling better, I trust?”

“Oh, immensely,” the Master all but purred.

The Seventh Doctor’s smile brightened, and he willed his hat back into existence in his hand. The Master rolled his eyes at it. “I look forward to our next rematch,” the Seventh Doctor said, and leaned over the Master (and a good number of his own selves), to press a sweet parting kiss to the Master’s lips.

“You’ll find I won’t be so easy to defeat next time,” the Master growled with an undercurrent of menace that made the Seventh Doctor shiver.

“I’m counting on it,” he agreed, and put his hat back on his head. In a flash, the rest of his clothes were back as well, and with a final coy look back over his shoulder, he left the bedroom behind.

As he went, the Sixth Doctor arose. “Ah, as quirkily quarrelsome as ever!” the Sixth Doctor said, and gave him a goodbye kiss on nose.

“Quite,” the Master said, and then accepted a longer, deeper kiss upon the lips.

The Sixth Doctor cleared his throat and blushed becomingly when he’d finally pulled away. “Tomorrow is W-day,” he reminded the Master.

“What wondrous wantonness,” the Master agreed.

The Sixth Doctor bowed, re-clownified himself, and strutted off.

“My mistake,” the Fourth Doctor said from off to the side, where he’d awoken in the meantime and was now shrugging back into his coat, hat, and scarf all at once, “it was still Q-day, after all.”

“Wrong for once, were you, my dear?” the Master teased him.

“Well…” The Fourth Doctor shrugged. “Just the once. Maybe.” He doffed his hat long enough to lean over and press a delighted smack to the Master’s lips. “Catch you later,” he said with a broad grin.

“Or, perhaps, I’ll catch you.”

“You’re welcome to try!” the Fourth Doctor teased in challenge, and was off. Then he was back in the doorframe for one moment—“More orange jelly babies next time; fewer yellow”—and darted back out again.

Beside the Master, the Eighth Doctor yawned, smacked him lips sleepily, and ran a hand through his long hair.

“Goo-snake?” the Master guessed.

The Eighth Doctor’s face lit up. “Goo-snake!” he agreed, and wrapped the Master up in one last passionate kiss. “Although, for the record,” he added, rising from the bed and selecting something suitably Byronic to wear for the evening, “I find you enticing in any body.”

“But most especially yours?” the Master guessed.

The Eighth Doctor shrugged sheepishly, gave the Master a finger-wave, and flounced off with far too much energy.

“The same goes for me as well, of course,” the Fifth Doctor suggested slyly.

The Master groaned. “Don’t tell me you’re addicted to that damnable goo-snake now, too!”

“Oh, not at all,” the Fifth Doctor assured him, “although I enjoyed shaking things up, just for a change.”

The Master pulled the Fifth Doctor’s face down to his, and they shared a long, slow kiss.

“However,” the Fifth Doctor pulled away, “it did occur to me that I don’t believe you’ve ever dressed yourself up as a schoolmaster and got yourself a long and hard ruler and then bent me over a desk for all my backtalk.” He redressed himself as he went.

“Surely not?” the Master said in surprise. “Such a grievous omission?”

“Yes, I do believe there has been.” The Fifth Doctor looked at him very sternly, and then broke out into a boyish smile. “Until next time!” he said, taking off. “I can’t wait to see what you’ll come up with next!”

Bossy, demanding Doctors, the whole lot of them…

The Master felt the Third Doctor spoon up behind him in bed. The Third Doctor slid an arm around the Master’s waist, and he pressed a kiss to the Master’s collarbone from behind.

“No doubt you’re feeling exceptionally satisfied with yourself,” the Master accused, and turned in the Third Doctor’s arms, so that they were face-to-face.

“I should think that you would be feeling the more satisfied with myself at this particular moment,” the Third Doctor retorted.

The Master gave him a tight smile at the terrible wordplay. “It will do,” he conceded, “for now.”

“If you’re still that insatiable, I take it that you’ve recovered from…well…” The Third Doctor trailed off with some embarrassment, as if he found it unconscionably rude to mention any weakness on either of their parts.

The Master, who also found it unconscionably rude to mention any weakness on either of their parts, appreciated the gesture. “Entirely,” he agreed curtly.

The Third Doctor nodded. And then ventured nervously, “I hope you wouldn’t be entirely adverse if, in the future, we were to continue to care for you?”

“My dear Doctor,” the Master said fondly, “after a display like that, how could I refuse?” He might even have meant it just then, if grudgingly.

“Cantankerous, obdurate, unreasonable old goat…” the Third Doctor muttered. “It’s a wonder I love you the way I do.”

The Master’s hearts thudded in his chest. “Indeed. The feeling is entirely mutual, I assure you.”

The Third Doctor beamed at him and kissed him sweetly.

“Now,” the Master said, trailing a teasing hand down the Doctor’s chest, “as I’m feeling hale once again… I have certain business to attend to. But, if you’d like to find a nice, quiet corner of the cosmos to explore, I’ll be along in a few heartsbeats to chase after you and stir up some carnage.”

“Sounds perfectly delightful,” the Third Doctor agreed. He rose from bed and started arranging all sorts of ridiculous, sensual ruffles about his body; he had always been such a touchable Doctor in his manner of dress. “May I ask what you plan to do in the meantime?”

“A meeting with myselves,” the Master answered easily enough, dressing himself on the other side of the bed.

“Its agenda?”

“Why, to gloat, of course.”

“Smugly?”

“My dear Doctor, is there any other way?”


End file.
